


Blue

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2019 [41]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Disaster gay, First Person, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17765102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Was I gay?Yes.Until today?And every other day.Now he's gone, and we're through?Why the hell did I have a one night stand with Kageyama?Am I blue?Goddamn it.





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics in the summary are from the song Am I Blue? by Billie Holiday. However, my first experience with this song came courtesy of Batman losing a bet in the Justice League animated series.

I have no idea how it happened, really. Kageyama has always been, well,  _ Kageyama _ to me. Oikawa’s nemesis, Karasuno’s setter, a bit of a grump, and a general badass when it comes to volleyball. 

But now he’s my boyfriend, and damn, it is a wild story.

 

There are a few moments in every person’s life when they exceed their own limits. Sometimes, it’s a scared parent flipping a car to free their children. Sometimes, it’s taking on something a lot bigger than you and making it work. Sometimes, it’s passing your potential and never being able to get it back again.

Hi, that’s me. The third one. 

I played the game of my life in my last high school volleyball game, and the feeling of that is something I’ve never been able to get back. Not in college, where I make a few respectable outings on the second string because there are plenty of guys who are better than me. Not at work, where I teach teenagers how to play and how to not be shitheads to the best of their abilities. 

And not the one night stand I spent at Kageyama’s apartment, either. Best damn night of my life, and it’ll probably never happen again.

No matter how hard I try, how much I wish I could, I can’t bring myself to ask him if he wants to do it again because I don’t want to know the answer. Was it as good for him as it was for me? Who the hell knows. He doesn’t talk about much. Maybe it’s a one-off and he’s just trying out sex with a dude to see if it’s his thing. He certainly wouldn’t be the first guy to do that. Hell, I ended up boning Oikawa once or twice in high school for that very reason.

So now I’m stuck with this massive crush on a man I’m pretty sure barely remembers I exist when I’m not in the room, and I don’t know what the actual fuck to do about it. So I do what I do best: sweat my balls off and stew in my own pathetic brine.

“Iwa-chan, you smell like a shoe,” Oikawa complains when he shows up at my apartment uninvited like he usually does. 

I make damn sure the towel I throw in his face is extra sweaty. “Then stop invading my personal space. Or knock for a change.”

“You’re even grumpier than usual.” Oikawa elbows me in the arm, and I do my level best not to either puke or rip his hair out. Which one it might’ve been, I can’t say. “Iwa-chan, you need to get laid.”

The dumbbell in my hand drops right on my fucking foot, and I barely notice because I’m too busy hiding my red-ass face from my best friend, who will pick me apart in minutes and dredge my dark secret to light. 

Nailed it.

“Ooh, maybe Iwa-chan is crushing on someone, then.” Oikawa leans in disgustingly close and waggles his eyebrows because he knows I’m going to tell him anyway. And I will, because I’m a sad son of a bitch and I need him to insult me to remind me of who I am. I just want the first blow.

“Stop referring to me in the third person, asshole. I’m standing right here.” I tug on his bangs and drop onto the couch. “Yeah, I do like someone. I just don’t know if he’ll ever give me the time of day again.”

Oikawa looms in front of my face like some mop-headed idiot who lost his village a long ass time ago. “Again? Oh, do tell.”

And I do. I leave out the name, of course. While Oikawa does oddly enough give good love life advice despite being a smoldering disaster in that area himself, I’m not sure that talent extends to coaching me on courting his old frenemies I just happen to bone.

“You are in so much shit, Hajime.” Oikawa is strangely silent, and I don’t like it at all. Finally, he puts me out of my misery. Sort of. “All right, I’ll help you get your man. First off, I want to know everything about him.”

No, you really don’t. “He’s, uh, into sports. Blue eyes. Nice hair. Has resting bitch face, but you know . . . the pretty kind. And we slept together and I don’t know what to do because he hasn’t called or texted. What if I’m, like, really bad in the sack and I don’t even know it.”

Oikawa smacks me because I probably deserve it. “Don’t be stupid Iwa-chan. You’re not bad in the sack. I would know. You’re just not my type because your boobs are too bi — ow! You are such a brute!”

A headlock is the least he deserves, but I let him go anyway. So maybe I’m reading too much into it. Kageyama isn’t the first guy to land his way into a one night stand, and he definitely won’t be the last. Maybe I just need to grow the hell up and accept that his eyes are not as sapphire blue as I remember them to be and the smile he never gives is worth waiting for.

Jesus Christ, kill me now. I sound like a friggin tool.

“You’re the biggest boob I have, yet I can’t seem to get rid of you.” I cross my arms over my chest because hey, my pecs  _ are  _ a little bit on the bulky side. “If you can’t say something useful, how about you stop being a dick.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Oikawa sighs, and I know I’m wearing him down. Now he’ll actually be useful instead of annoying. “All right, so you’re a little shoujo-manga about the guy. Fine. I can work with that. For all your many, many faults, you’ve always been a good judge of character.”

I close my eyes and count to ten. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that in the douchiest way possible, and we’re going to move on.”

Oikawa nods, and the probing begins. Where did we meet? How did the topic of sex even happen? Did he use a condom when he plowed my bottom ass?

Hey, wait a minute. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Ass In The Air Like A Dog In Heat. A jet could fly into your gaping anus, and you’re calling  _ me _ the bottom?”

He slaps me, I punch him, and the conversation resumes. “We met at a restaurant because a mutual acquaintance set us up. It was a nice night. Then for some goddamn reason, he propositioned me and I agreed. So now I have a crush on a random guy who just wanted some dick and I hate myself a little for being like this.”

Sometimes, Oikawa is a flaming bag of cat shit left on the doorstep of that crazy old lady that throws rocks at pedestrians. And sometimes, he’s actually kind of nice. Not that I’ll ever say that out loud or even admit to hosting a thought like that.

Oikawa hugs my arm and groans. “Yep, you’re in deep shit.”

“I sure am.” I ruffle his hair because I’m an asshole like that. “So, what do ya got?”

“Give me a day or so to think about it, and I’ll get back to you.”

He does just that, but it’s a day late and a boatload of yen short. As it turns out, I didn’t need Oikawa for anything other than making me break my goddamn toe.

It doesn’t take long for my foot to start ballooning, and I swallow my pride and gimp my way to the nearest clinic. It’s the sports medicine place I usually send any of the kids on my team who need a specialist. It’s a good place. At least it is until those same blue eyes that get my sappy ass every time waltz into the room.

“Oh hell,” I say, because I am there. This is actually hell.

“Iwaizumi-san.” Kageyama nods in acknowledgement because he always has been super polite to his upperclassmen. “What did you do to your foot?”

He’s going to think I’m a spaz, and he would be totally correct. “I dropped a weight on my toe while trying to make Oikawa shut up.” 

A weird, toothy smile splits Kageyama’s face as he laughs at that mental image, which I’ll admit would be funny if it happened to anybody but me. But I forget all about my abused toe because I am doing my best not to sigh like a damn Disney princess at the way his quirky little smile lights up his entire being. Dude, I have it so bad.

The moment drowns in silence, and Kageyama proceeds to examine my foot with the utmost concentration. After numerous probes, he wraps my entire foot and puts one of the dreaded boots on me. Great. Now I won’t be able to wear court shoes right for at least a month. This is fate punishing me for not keeping my dick to myself. I swear, I learned my lesson.

(I did not, in fact, learn my lesson.)

“You never said you did doctor stuff,” I blurt, and Kageyama’s pen snaps in half while he’s filling out my chart. 

“I had to take something at college,” he says, toweling off the gobs of ink all over his fingers. “I like it.”

It makes sense, really. As me and my knees can attest, you can’t play games forever and usually not for a living. Even someone who worships at the volleyball altar like Kageyama needs a game plan for the great Life After. At least he can put his intelligence to good use.

And here is me, still not learning my lesson. “So, you never called.”

The clipboard careens from Kageyama’s hands, and I don’t feel like such a moron for fucking up my toe. At least I’m not the only one suffering here. 

Oh, his face is  _ red _ . Not like fake strawberry red. He’s full on Red Delicious. “Sorry,” I offer, while not all that sorry.

“I don’t know what to say,” he replies. And  _ now  _ I feel bad. “I, uh, don’t have your number and I didn’t want to ask You-Know-Who.”

Okay, so I’m going right back to hell. I can’t help it if I think it’s fucking funny that his nickname for Oikawa is basically Voldemort. I laugh, he blushes some more, and I feel a small measure of shame before I laugh again. Wow, I am a dick. Why did this guy sleep with me in the first place?

“I’m being a jerk. I’m sorry.” Thinking back on That Night, I remember something in particular. “Hey, I gave you my number. Right before we, uh —” Now I’m blushing, too. What the fuck.

“I know, but it sort of ended up in the trash with the tissues.” He looks at literally anything but me. Mood. “I tried to fish it out, but it was all sticky and —” He buries his face in his hands. “This is the worst.”

Why do I have a conscience? It’s really kind of a pain in the ass. “Hey, I didn’t mean to razz you. I had a good time. I just wanted to see you again.”

I give him a dopey smile because I am, in fact, a dope, and he just . . . stares. A lot. 

Whether he moves first or I do, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that for a giant dweeb, Kageyama is actually a pretty good kisser and I could definitely do this for the rest of my life. With me sitting on the exam table, I’m just a tiny bit taller than him and the angle is perfect. 

We break apart, and I drop back on the exam table like a big gay starfish and laugh all over again. “Now I feel like an idiot. I thought you were just interested in a quick romp and never seeing me again.”

Kageyama shakes his head like I just insulted every mother ever in his family history. Or worse, volleyball. “No! It wasn’t like that.” He pulls on his hair, and I want to stop him up to the point where I remember that he’s kind of into that. “So, uh, do you wanna go out again? We can skip the sex part if you want to take it slower, but I’d really like to see you again.”

He nods, I circle my phone number on my chart, and I waddle out of the clinic a happy man.

“I have an idea,” Oikawa says when he comes over to scold me for ruining my foot before doing my laundry for me. “What if you hire a skywriter to ask him out again?”

Well, it’s not the stupidest thing he’s ever said. It’s close, but not quite. “What, and broadcast my number for every rando to crank call me until my phone explodes or my head does? No fucking thank you.”

“How about looking him up in the phone book?” 

I throw the pair of socks I’m matching in his face. “Nobody has a landline anymore, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, either.” Moving on to the shirts I’m folding to keep my hands busy rather than any fucks given about how wrinkly my workout tees get, I decide to see where else Oikawa’s jack in the box of a brain will go with this. “Next?”

“Do the thing you do with your car keys? Once you stop looking for them, you find them almost right away.” He shrugs, probably tapped out of ideas, but that’s pretty much what happened this morning.

Willing myself to be the bigger man, I finally admit, “I actually talked to him today. We’re going out again.” Oikawa prods and I spill, and the ridiculous tale of how I ended up scoring Date Number Two with Kageyama flows freely. 

Still not telling Oikawa who it is, though. As far as he needs to know, it’s some guy with a generic ass name who is almost ‘as ugly as Iwa-chan’. Douche. Why do I like this guy again?

Oh, yeah. 

Oikawa grins at me and gives me a hug. “That’s great. My work is done.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“And yet it is done.” He crosses his arms and pouts on the couch next to me. “I should’ve known you’d be ungrateful.”

We squabble because the two of us are allergic to peace when we’re in the same room, and things go back to normal. He stops asking, I stop volunteering, and the laundry gets done with minimal damage to my whites.

Three days later, I dress around the stupid friggin boot as much as I can and arrive at the prearranged meeting spot. It’s a place that’s on the nicer side of casual, so my form-fitting button up shirt (untucked because I’m not ninety) works well with my nicest pair of jeans.

My toe takes the brunt of my shock when I’m walking into the restaurant, smacking into a decorative fountain when I stop looking where the hell I’m going. I can’t look at anything but him.

His hair is perfectly arranged, his blue shirtsleeves and black tie under a charcoal gray suit make his eyes light up, and then he smiles at me and my goose is cooked. My toe will probably hurt until the fifth of forever, but how can I possibly care about that when I get to sit with the hottest person in the room?

Kageyama darts to his feet and pulls out my chair. “You should sit down. Don’t stress your foot too much.”

“That was the plan.” I let him dote on me because I really don’t feel like arguing, and it’s kind of nice. No wonder chicks did this sort of thing.

He steals my breath, man. LIke, totally sucks it right out of my lungs. If someone told my eighteen year old self that I would be thirsting after Kageyama Tobio in a suit, I’d have kicked their ass into the next prefecture. But here I am, trying not to drool on myself or grin like a fool. 

This time, we catch up. Kageyama tells me about playing in college and deciding to put his free degree to use. I tell him about what it’s like to coach middle school volleyball, and he hangs on every word. 

And when we leave the restaurant, splitting the bill because we don’t want to argue over it, it’s my turn to hang on him. He offers his arm to help me balance. I don’t need it, but I take it anyway because I can smell his aftershave and hints of fruity shampoo and god _ damn _ I want to wreck him. 

We end up at his place because he obviously doesn’t know how to get to mine, and my stupid monkey brain can’t spit out directions to save my life or his. We take the elevator instead of the stairs, for which my throbbing foot and I are grateful. 

Inside, he bites his lip and casts his gaze down at the floor, a hint of a flush on his cheeks. I’m a gentleman, so I don’t drag him to bed so we can fuck each other senseless. Instead, I try the softer approach this time. 

Tucking a finger under his chin, I make him look at me properly and — oh my god they are so blue what the fuck. “I really like spending time with you, Tobio.” I throw in his given name because according to every stupid girly manga ever written, people in love lap that shit up. And it works. How the fuck does that even work?

Tobio scoops me into his arms and all but sprints to the bedroom, and before I know it, he’s bouncing on my cock and moaning like a whore. Ohhhhh I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

 

So there you have it: the utterly obtuse way I swept my boyfriend off his feet. Or, rather, he swept me off of mine. Oikawa knows now. He’s pouting about it, but even he has to admit that Kageyama and I — we just  _ work _ , you know?

Am I in deep? Yep. Am I in over my head? God yes. Am I going to latch my limbs around that gorgeous blue-eyed, poop-faced Adonis whose come I can still taste on my tongue?

As if I can do anything else. What can I say? I’m a fool in love, and fools do crazy things like date in reverse. So you do you, and I’ll be over here getting laid and then cuddling while watching the sports news program that repeats every half an hour over and over again. But it’s all good, because we’re together.


End file.
